


Stranger than Kindness

by simithedemon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-15
Updated: 2009-02-15
Packaged: 2018-10-31 20:36:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10907010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simithedemon/pseuds/simithedemon
Summary: A cemetery, the walking Undead, our heroes trapped and injured...(Archived from LJ)





	Stranger than Kindness

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was originally posted on the rather lovely LJ comm deancastiel way way back in 2009, for their Secret Angels Fic Exchange. The prompts, from LJ user amoralambiguity, called for zombies and Castiel and Sam talking. 
> 
> I'm gradually archiving all my old fic on here from LJ as the original files got lost 2 hard drives ago!

Dean leant against the side of the marble tomb, cold slowly seeping through the layers on his back, watching as the three zombies lurched closer. Their appearance suggested slow and stupid, yet their eyes gleamed with a grim malevolence as whatever dark spell Lilith had unearthed to raise them worked its mojo. The throbbing pain in his side forced him to swap his machete from right to left, not his best arm, but still good enough to deal with these sons-of-bitches, provided they were polite enough to attack one-on-one. Unfortunately, Dean doubted that this would be the case.

Where the hell was Sam? He knew splitting up was a bad idea, but Sam had insisted. Dean was starting to suspect that he might have had ulterior motives for the move; was there some aspect of his powers that he had kept quiet, that he was hoping to use on these things? Dean knew they needed help, but Sam throwing himself down that path was definitely not the way to go. Dammit, he’d better be safe or he was going to kick that kid’s ass.

As they drew nearer the smell of putrescence hit him. The rich thick scent sat heavily in Dean’s lungs, so strong that he could taste the rot at the back of his throat, and he struggled not to retch, breathing shallowly in an attempt at control. 

He braced. Lifted the blade ready to hack at whatever reached him first, keeping at careful eye on both the leading zombie and the two trailing slightly behind. As the gap closed Dean lashed out, catching an extended arm. The sharp blade went through the soft spongy flesh as if it wasn’t there, caught on the bone and slid down, flaying the meat as it went until, with a soft sound, it separated and hung down from the arm, leaving the pale bone exposed. 

Dean pulled back and struck again, gobbets of decayed flesh flying from the blade as he swung it round. This time he got the angle right and the sharp edge of the machete lopped the arm off at the elbow. He grinned briefly before realising that the injury had barely slowed it, and now its companions were close enough to join ranks. He was seriously outnumbered and tiring fast, and was beginning to suspect that he may have gained more than just a gouge and a few cracked ribs from his last encounter. The sweats he had attributed to a more than understandable nervousness had now been joined by faint tremors and an increasing feeling of dizziness. If Sam didn’t show his face soon, he had a feeling he would be royally screwed.

“Hey Dean, up here!”

Dean looked up to see his brother peering over the top of the tomb. He reached up, grabbed hold of Sam’s outstretched arms and did his best to scrabble up, ignoring the sickening tearing sensation in his side as he attempted to climb. In the end it was Sam’s efforts that got him clear, sweating and grimacing as he finally pulled him over the edge onto the small but relatively safe space. 

Dean lay on his back, panting loudly, and stared at the sky overhead as he fought the blackness swirling around the edge of his vision. The top they were resting on was barely large enough for the two of them, but high enough that the zombies were unable to reach them unless they suddenly discovered a talent for climbing. Dean was fairly certain that that particular trick was beyond them. However, the fact that they couldn’t reach the brothers wasn’t appearing to deter them – he could hear the faintly liquid sound of their moans, and the not quite stealthy noises as they circled the tomb.

Sam knelt beside him, and probed gingerly at his injured side. 

“Jesus Dean, what happened? You let them chew on you or something?” Sam’s face screwed up in worry as he saw the extent of the damage.

“I’m fine, Sam, or at least I’ll be fine once we get out of this fucked-up mess,” Dean told him. “I don’t remember Uriel mentioning flesh-craving zombies in our little dream walk. ‘Simple recon’ my ass! Check out the cemetery, they’ll keep Lilith off our backs... ‘We just have to find out what she’s doing...’ Well, now I know what she’s doing...she’s breeding fricking flesh-eating zombies. Bitch!”

He shut his eyes against the glare of the sun. The dizziness was increasing at an alarming rate, but he was wary of revealing that to Sam. The kid had a bad habit of worrying unnecessarily.

***

It felt like only a few seconds had passed before he felt someone tugging on his jeans. Cracking his eyes open, he looked down to see Sam exploring the depths of his pockets. 

“Watcha doing down there Sammy? Don’t I get dinner first?” He smirked lecherously at his brother in an attempt to lighten the mood, but failed miserably. Sam still looked pissed off and worried, and still carried on searching through Dean’s pockets.

“Yes, Dean, very funny. Hex bag. Where is it? You know you’ve been unconscious for the last few hours? There’re shitloads more zombies down there, and we need help. No cell reception, so no Bobby.” Sam pulled a battered leather pouch out of Dean’s front pocket. “Never mind, got it.”

He dropped it onto the worn stone surface, along with his own, and then squatted down beside them. Flicking his lighter, he set the two items alight and watched intently as the blue flame rapidly devoured them. Dean was more interested in watching his brother than the destruction of the hex bags, no matter how pretty. There were signs of strain on his face that seemed too much to have been caused by the situation; they’d been in tighter spots.

He laughed. “Good effort, Sam, but I don’t think it’s quite large enough to scare off your undead friends down there. And if you’re hoping for the angelic cavalry to ride in and rescue us, may I remind you that we’re not exactly BFFs right now.”

Dean was sure that if there was a bit more room, Sam would be pacing by now. Instead he stood, clearly agitated, running his fingers through his hair and bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet.

“Dean, we’re so screwed if we can’t get out of here. Anything’s worth a try. We’ve obviously set off some kind of trap, there are more zombies down there, and it’s only a matter of time before Lilith turns up to find out what all the fuss is about. Just… I don’t know…. lie there and think of Castiel or something. He likes you, he seems to know what you’re doing, maybe we’ll get lucky.” Sam shrugged as he spoke and Dean was sure now that he was hiding something. He never sounded as hopeless as this.

“Sam… what’s going on?”

“It’s nothing, Dean, OK?” Sam scrubbed his eyes with his hands, slumping slightly as he sat back down beside the smouldering remains of the bags. “Oh crap. Look, while you were out I tried. I tried to see if the powers could be used on the zombies somehow and it didn’t work. In fact it did the opposite; it seemed to attract more of them. I’m sorry, Dean, but I had to try, we’re stuck, you’re hurt and it was worth a shot.”

“Well, if we’re lucky, Uriel might just turn up to smite your ass.” Dean sighed heavily and shut his eyes again. Sometimes he thought that Sam just didn’t seem to get how narrow the line was that he was walking. He’d lost him once and he was damned if he was going to do it again, or be damned again for that matter, but at least it seemed as if his disappearing act earlier wasn’t to practise putting the whammy on the zombies.

It was cold, the monsters were hungry and he was feeling worse by the minute. To top it all off the wind seemed to be picking up. Dean could hear the nearby trees rustling and he shivered as the chill seemed to sink into his bones. The creatures below seemed to pick up on the change, the sound of their moans increasing in intensity as they moved around the base of the tomb. It felt like a storm was approaching; Dean could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rising as the air crackled with static, and it felt familiar in a way that nagged at his progressively more fuzzy brain. 

He smiled.

“I think you’ve got your wish. Cas is coming.” He reached out a hand. “Help me up.”

Sam pulled him up carefully and then stepped back, eyes fixed firmly over Dean’s left shoulder.

Dean didn’t have to turn around to know that Castiel had appeared behind him. The limited space meant that he could feel the heat from his body as he stood close behind. However, he did jump as he suddenly felt Castiel’s arm go around him.

“Hey! What’s with the touching?” He half turned and looked directly at the angel.

Castiel cocked his head and gazed intently at him. “You are hurt. The wounds you have are infected, and need treatment. We will take you somewhere safe, but first we have to deal with Lilith’s abominations.” He looked away, towards Sam, who suddenly realised that Dean wasn’t the only one to be standing by an angel.

“Uriel,” Castiel nodded towards his companion. “Shall we begin?”

“An abomination creating more abominations. I shall enjoy this,” Uriel grinned fiercely. “Samuel Winchester, you may wish to get down and cover your eyes. It would be... regrettable, if I were to accidentally vanquish you too. Castiel gets so stubborn about upsetting your brother.” 

He looked over towards Dean and Castiel, and Dean could have sworn he leered. He was starting to get the idea that he and Cas should have a little talk, but maybe after they got out of this mess.

Sam dropped down in front of Uriel and put his arm up, protecting his face. As Uriel placed his hand upon Sam’s shoulder, Dean felt Castiel do the same and he quickly followed Sam’s example, dropping down to the stone. He hesitated, hands before his face, and peered over to the horde below. The sight was worthy of some of the better films he’d caught in various skanky motel rooms. A sea of faces stared back at him, uniformly horrific in appearance, if not in their state of decay, all eyes (or sockets at least) fixed firmly on the four on the top of tomb. He shuddered and quickly covered his face. 

The wind seemed to increase, and the angels’ light suddenly began to bleed through the cracks in his fingers. Dean screwed his eyes shut and tried to make himself smaller as they set to work. As the glow increased in intensity, the sound of fluttering grew louder and for a moment Dean could have sworn that the feel of Castiel pressing against his back was mixed with the soft brush of feathers. 

Castiel’s hand was still resting on Dean’s shoulder and he felt it grip tight as the moans below them changed into shrieks of pain and anger. It loosened, and then swept up the side of his neck as Castiel moved to cover Dean’s ears. Dean started to swear softly under his breath as the high pitched whine of Castiel’s true voice started up. As the noise and the pain in his ears grew, Dean wondered what would be defeated first: the zombies, whose screams were hopefully indicating a quick end, or his tortured eardrums.

A sweep of something that definitely was wings muted some of the light, and Dean quickly put his hands up over Castiel’s in an attempt to block the sound. His head started spinning, the dizziness he’d been trying to ignore returning in full force under the onslaught of the light and noise. 

“Oh, crap...” As he felt himself start to slide to one side, Castiel’s hands moved quickly, the angel bending to catch his fall. “Sam’s going to love this, fainting like a goddamned girl...”

He felt a gentle brush of lips against his ear as Castiel whispered softly, “Sleep, Dean.”

***

He woke slowly, lulled by the warmth and softness of an unfamiliar but very welcome bed. Usually the idea of Castiel putting the whammy on him would piss him off, but he felt too safe and pain-free to do much but lie underneath the cocoon of covers. The murmur of Sam’s voice drifted over him, and he was contemplating opening his eyes when the mattress suddenly dipped beside him. 

“He will be fine now, Sam.” Castiel’s voice was surprisingly close. “The infection is cleared.”

“Thank you.” Sam paused. “I wanted to thank you again for coming. I appreciate that we’re not exactly your favourite people at the moment, not after Anna, but I’m grateful. We’re both grateful for your help.” Another, longer pause. “Why don’t you just tell him?”

“Tell him what, Sam?”

“That you like him. I’m not blind, I’ve seen the way you watch him. Hell, everyone’s seen the way you watch him, except Dean.” 

Castiel sighed. “It’s not as simple as that, Samuel. Both you and Dean have decisions to make, and paths to follow. It’s a matter of free will.”

Dean wasn’t sure that he wanted to hear the remainder of the conversation, but there wasn’t a chance that he was going to let either of them know that he was awake and eavesdropping. His stomach churned as he considered the consequences of what he was hearing. Castiel had been watching him. Cas liked him. An angel liked him. It was strange in some ways; Dean had often amused himself by lazily checking out the angel but had never entertained the thought that he might have been doing the same thing. He was an angel, for crying out loud.

Sam was beginning to sound frustrated. “Are you worried about influencing him or me? Don’t underestimate my brother, he’ll do what he thinks is right no matter what the cost. You can’t change that, I can’t change that. In the meantime he’s struggling with all this ‘torturing souls’ crap. You could help him; just being with Dean would help him. And there’s no issue from me, hell, I get it, I really do. I can see how much you want this and I know my brother better than he realises. He’ll want this too.”

“I am a warrior of God, Sam, what I want is irrelevant. I have orders, and I follow them, and that is my purpose.”

Sam huffed. “Whatever. You’ve got my blessing for what that’s worth; it’s up to you what you do with it. Now, I’m going to get some supplies. Can you please stay with him until I get back?”

“I will wait.”

“Thank you.” Sam’s voice was already moving away from the bed.

Dean lay listening to the quiet of the room, unsure of what to do next. Castiel sat unmoving, and Dean was struck with the sudden urge to see if he was being watched by those intense blue eyes.

“I know you’re awake, Dean.” The warmth in Castiel’s voice was clear and unambiguous, and Dean couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed it before. A knot he hadn’t even realised was there shifted and released, and in that moment Dean made a decision.

He opened his eyes and smiled.


End file.
